My eyes are merely a looking glass,
Peer to their depths, do you see my soul flicker?
Burning such as a low candle, fighting strengthening breeze,
As experiences past taunt the wick daily again and again,
For try as I might, I remain deep, altruistic,
Their belief can be so non-descript,
When mouthed passed lips of non-believers,
All of those that uttered 'sorry',
Only their tongues moved, their hearts - nay!
Their soul never meant a word of it,
So here my little heart still struggles and flutters...
My heart is nkthing other than a delicate gift,
Sometimes seen as faulty goods,
I accept that my heart may be akin to a shoe,
To be returned to me once all worn out,
Having been told it didn't fit, or just wouldn't do,
And my heart flits to and fro, alike a butterfly,
Once retaining memories of times,
Both good and bad, chances that passed me by,
For here I stand, heart in hand or mouth,
Still faltering, but, despite life's cruelties,
It still beats, and so far remains undefeated...
My life has been like that of a Cuckoo,
I have strived to belong in my nest any nest,
Have wished at times, hoped for that of another,
Altruism - Grass greener pon the other side?
Realism, just a different type of the same world,
Imagination - a more primitive place to escape or hide,
So here I shall remain for my days, a thoughtful chasm,
Seeking only in another, from life the same,
Honest eyes to look upon me, look deep,
Past the reflections of eye looking glass,
See a heart so gifted, a love you can't surpass...
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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